


About Fields, Failures and First Times

by r0bots



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward First Times, Bullying, First Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2152587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0bots/pseuds/r0bots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their second year of high school, and all Oscar Emboaba wants is to pass unnoticed amongst the assholes who study with him. The plan doesn't work. After a series of random events, Oscar gets a chance to prove himself to Neymar, the school's most popular guy, and, suddenly, everyone is watching him.<br/>Oscar feels nervous. Neymar makes him feel nervous.<br/>Neymar makes him feel a lot of things, actually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Anne, who betaed my fic and heard me cry about these idiots. You're the best ✧･ﾟ:*╰ (◕ヮ◕╰)

         

         

The midday sun was hard on their necks. Oscar wiped away his forehead’s sweat. “Your left!” He had to shout, because there were screams coming from the bleachers and Bernard wouldn’t hear him otherwise.

“Got it!”

Bernard had already noticed the adversary coming towards him some seconds ago. He kicked the ball away just in time.

The match would end in five seconds. It was a pretty neat kick.

They held their breath as the ball flied straight to the goal.

_Four. . . Three. . . Two. . ._

“GOOOOALLL!!!” They cheered in unison, both hands throwed in the air in celebration. Oscar was smiling, but when the girl from a row of seats below turned to give them a weird look, he sat up straight, cheeks reddening. The sunlight that reflected upon Bernard’s PSP screen hit her directly in the eyes and she cursed at them, stating she could’ve been permanently blinded.

“Sorry!” said Bernard, but rolled his eyes when she turned away.

Oscar remembered something.

“Hey, did you finish your report?”

“Yea. It’s not good but whatever, it’s not like Felipão reads these anyway.” Bernard handed him a piece of paper with a handwriting so bad it looked like _hieroglyph_. Oscar read a few sentences and recognized some of his own words there. He groaned, slapping Bernard on the shoulder.

“Dude, what have I told you about copying my stuff?”

Bernard shrugged, a bit embarrassed. “Sorry. You’re the one who’s good with words. I wouldn’t even make this far in school without you.”

Oscar was still mad at him, but couldn’t suppress a snort. “You just met me this year.”

Bernard frowned at him, eyes questioning why his friend was stating the obvious.

“We’re in the second year of high school” Oscar continued, “What about the other years?”

“Oh. . .” Bernard smiled awkwardly. “I guess I just had other “Oscars”. But they were usually girls, though. They thought I was cute because of my height so they’d always stick around and help me whenever.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot. You’re just my friend ‘cause I help you with stuff.”

“I’m your friend because you’re a friend to me.” Bernard replied too quickly, and Oscar saw a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “I mean. . . I’m your friend because I like you. . .” The blush intensified. “AS A FRIEND!”

Oscar was laughing now.

“Okay, dude, I was just messing with you. I don’t mind helping, but no more copying my words, ok? I’ll let this one pass because I’m pretty sure you’re right and Felipão doesn’t read _these._ ” Oscar held their reports in the air and stared at it with anger for a second. Then at Bernard, a lot less angry. “But just this time, ok?”

“Ok. I won’t do that again, I promise.” Bernard lifted a closet fist and Oscar lightly tapped the front of their fists together two times ― _thump, thump_ ―; their palms mirrored as they raised them in the air with an explosion mimic.

“Guys, look! The lovebirds here have a special fist bump. Isn’t that cute?” Said a vaguely familiar voice. Oscar felt sick when he turned his face and met the girl’s mockery gaze, the same girl who cursed at them minutes ago. “Isn’t that cute, guys?” There was something about her voice, something that meant she was trying to _insult_.

Her friends laughed with her, laughed _at_ Oscar. Beside him, he could almost feel Bernard’s body tensing up, clearly conflicted with the whole situation. Despite of his short height and innocent face, Bernard was always getting into fights with whoever bullied him, all swears and deadly looks; but he has never been mocked by a _girl._ And Oscar could swear Bernard had never, and would never hit a girl.

“I’m gonna hand our reports so we can get out of here.” Oscar said to Bernard, trying to ignore the persistent jeering.

“I’m coming with you” Bernard got on his feet too, shoving his PSP in his pocket.

They made their way down the bleachers as fast as they could. The jerks who were teasing them were now shouting homophobic slurs and, suddenly, Bernard and Oscar were the center of the attention.

Oscar could actually feel his cheeks burning. He didn’t dare to look at the field, where he could swear the game had just stopped. That, or he was just getting real _paranoid_.

Felipão, who had been standing near his chair the whole time, suddenly stood up, just when Oscar was close enough to reach him. Oscar followed him with his gaze, his stomach clenching from the anxiety. Turned out the game did stopped. Someone had been kicked in the balls and was now crying on the grass like a baby. Felipão was just helping his student walk to the infirmary “I’ll be right back” he shouted at the rest of the class. “Whoever kills each other will be suspended!”

Oscar felt a weight being raised from his shoulders as he realized most people were laughing at the injured boy, and not at _him_. Oscar was not the kind of person who’d laugh at someone’s disgrace, but he hated everyone on the school team. Also, he could swear the weeping dude bullied him last week and the thought made him crack a laugh.

On the field, both team captains were having an argument.

“Dude, we can continue this next class!” Said William, whose team the crying boy belonged to.

Neymar, captain of the opposite team, shook his head negatively. “Nah-ah, we’re going to find you a substitute. We still have like, twenty minutes left. Let’s finish this.” He grinned.

Oscar found the whole situation quite stupid. That wasn’t even a real training; it was just a regular physical education class. Technically, William and Neymar, just like other nine dudes who were playing against each other that day, were all on the same team. The school football team Oscar and Bernard once dreamed to be a part of and learnt to hate.

They were all a bunch of assholes. Especially Neymar, Oscar would add.

And suddenly, as if summoned by Oscar’s thoughts of his name, Neymar looked right at him.

“Oscar!”

Oscar felt sick again.

Neymar was talking to him. Neymar, the Mr. Popular, King Of The Assholes, was talking to _him_ in front of everyone.

No good could come out of this situation.

“No way!” William was already protesting and some of his teammates joined in the chorus. “I’ve never even seen this guy play before!”

“Let’s give him a chance then.” Neymar was walking towards Oscar now, arms spread like the statue of Christ the Redeemer, that huge grin still on his face. Oscar was silent and so was Bernard.

“The guy can’t even speak, I bet he can’t even kick a ball without falling off!” Someone said, and Oscar felt the blood boiling in his veins. Anger.

Neymar rested a hand on Oscar’s shoulder like it was a natural gesture. “I bet he’s great. Aren’t you great, Oscar?”

An uncomfortable silence in response. Oscar wanted to shove him aside, tell him to _fuck off_ , but for some reason he couldn’t. Oscar always felt really nervous around Neymar and was never really certain why. He was certain, however, that he was feeling pretty stupid right now. And that Bernard was walking one step ahead, building confidence to speak up.

“I can play.” he said, his usually high-pitched making him sound like a child. Laughs followed his statement and nobody really paid attention to him, like he was invisible, like he was useless. And it was so fucking _unfair_ , because Oscar had played with Bernard multiple times and he knew the boy was _really good_. Oscar himself was really good at football, though his modesty would never let him admit that out loud. But he wasn’t the one being denied a chance because of his height. Bernard deserved better.

“He’s better than you all” Oscar couldn’t believe his words when he said them; the anger that took over him had turned into something that felt like a hint of courage.

Neymar squeezed his eyes at him, like he was surprised. He looked at Bernard, and then at Oscar again. “Nah, I want _you_ to play.”

Somehow, Oscar held up his gaze, his face very serious. An idea suddenly crossed his mind. “I’ll only play if you let Bernard join the team next training.”

Bernard’s reaction was immediate. “Dude!!!”, he protested, his face very red. But Oscar could tell he was secretly hopeful by the way he looked at Neymar, waiting for a response.

“Yea, whatever, My Little Pony here can join us next training.” Neymar answered without further questioning. He was still smiling at Oscar.

_Done. Ok. You can do it, Oscar._

Oscar walked towards the reluctant team he was going to play for. William was cursing under his breath, but when Oscar approached, he managed to give him some basic instructions, in a somehow polite way. Oscar was told he’d play as an attacker midfielder.

When everyone got on their positions, Felipão was returning to the field. He eyed them suspiciously, his stare lasting longer on Oscar.

Oscar’s stomach was still wildly clenching, his heart beating faster than it has ever beaten before. He felt every gaze on him like anvils on his shoulders, trying to crush him down. He wouldn’t let them.

His eyes met Neymar’s. Oddly, the opposite team’s captain was not smiling now. He was still squeezing his eyes in a _neymarish_ way, but he looked sort of. . . _curious_. There wasn’t any disdain in his expression.

“Everyone ready?” He shouted, his eyes still locked onto Oscar’s. Everyone said yes or raised a thumbs up. Oscar simply nodded, discreet. Then Neymar finally smiled.

Felipão blew the whistle.

The game was on.

         

         

         

         


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo my college schedule this semester is fucking with entire my life and since i've been barely sleeping lately, writing this fic is being _a hell_ of a journey. but i do love writing this and i'll do my best to update at least once a week, i promise. thanks for your patience and thank you so so much for the comments! sometimes when i'm having a tough day at college and i read that at least i'm making someone happy i instantly get happy too  <3

Oscar could feel his heart beating like crazy, his sides hurting from the running and irregular breathing. He could hear distant screams too: insults, cheering, Bernard telling him something ― he couldn’t tell _what_ , but he’d recognize Bernard’s voice anywhere ―, Felipão shouting advices at non-experienced players. . . After all, _it was_ a physical education class and not everyone who was playing was there because they wanted to. Students had a choice: they could play a sport, or write a report about said sport. It wasn’t exactly a mystery what most boys would prefer.

Those students weren’t hard to spot. They were usually the lowest ones, running only when the ball flied in their direction by accident ― which was hardly ever. Oscar has never seen one of them score a goal before.

Actually, the fact that they called themselves “a team” made Oscar’s insides twitch. Although nobody said it out loud, the hierarchy was there for everyone with eyes to see. Only the school team footballers were truly playing and even though Oscar was trying his best to be useful, it was almost impossible to achieve anything when the members of his own “ _team”_ were acting like he was not there at all.

“Two minutes!” Felipão shouted, loud enough so everyone could hear him crystal clear.

Oscar stopped by sudden, analyzing the situation. He was standing considerably close to the adversary’s goal and the action was now taking place at his team’s side of the field, where Neymar was trying to score.

The opponent’s goalkeeper waded closer, scorn all over his face. “Tired?” He teased.

Oscar opened his mouth to retort but said no word. Neymar had just kicked the ball straight to the goal. Oscar didn’t notice he held his own breath.

“One minute!” Felipão shouted.

The goalkeeper stopped the ball just in time, sending it straight to Lucas’ foot.  Everything that followed happened in what seemed to be a blink of an eye. Lucas trying to protect the ball from the adversaries’ assaults, kicking it to William. William glancing at Oscar, indecision in his eyes for a millisecond. Oscar clapping his hands as to say “I’m ready”. He was ready.

William nodded. The team captain had nothing to lose, really.

And for the first time in the match, Oscar had been given a chance.

Time seemed to slow down as he watched the ball fly in his direction.

The distant screams became suddenly louder. He saw Neymar in his peripheral vision, running like his life depended on it. Oscar was pretty sure one minute had already passed, but he could tell Felipão was watching, waiting. Waiting for _him_ to show what he’s got. It was now or never. Oscar saw the moment and jumped, his feet meeting the ball in the air with a powerful kick. _Everything in slow motion_. Neymar accidentally bumped into him with his whole body and Oscar fell, face down in the grass. It didn’t hurt much, but it didn’t matter now. The goalkeeper who teased him moments before was too surprised to act. He went to the opposite direction.

The ball went straight to the goal.

 _Goal_. _I did it. Oh my God._

Suddenly, someone was raising him by his arm. Oscar felt his right shoulder hurting a little, but he was smiling. He couldn’t _not to_.

William patted him in the back, a very surprised grin on his face. “Dude, I guess I owe you an apology.”

Oscar blinked, his eyes wide. Did William just apologize to him?

 “I’m sorry I have to be the buzzkill but you guys know it was a tie, right?” Neymar was standing in front of them. Oscar felt instantly uncomfortable for God knows why.

“Fuck’s sake, Neymar, nobody cares.” William rolled his eyes at him and left.

“Pretty sure he’d be caring a fuckton if he had won.” Neymar was smiling. It took Oscar a moment to realize he was talking to _him_. “You’re really shy, aren’t you? I never hear you speak.”

Oscar couldn’t believe his ears. His face flushed in anger as memories flashed through his mind; memories about a certain hideous day in seventh grade. The way Neymar said it looked like they’ve never spoken before. _Does he even remember that day?_ Oscar wondered, and the sickness was back in his stomach again.

“Oops, look at the time.” Neymar cynically glanced at an invisible wristwatch. “I’m late, ‘have to go. You should play with us more often, though.”

_What?_

“Oscar!” Felipão called. Oscar turned to meet his gaze. “Great game, kid. Why don’t you show up to our next training? They’re at five p.m., every tuesday and thursday.”

Oscar only nodded, still silent, anxiety increasing. Felipão was studying him and, for a moment, Oscar thought he’d say something but the teacher left without a warning. Neymar was also gone.

Oscar looked at his shoes, his foot still numb from the impact of the kick. He scored a goal. Felipão himself just invited him to the next training. He should feel great.

_Why am I not feeling great?_

 

The rest of the classes were painful to stand. Time seemed to run like a sloth.

“Dude, you’re stinking.” Bernard was covering his nose.

“I didn’t bring any extra piece of clothing to change.” Oscar said. It was true. It was also true, however, that Oscar was too embarrassed to shower with his teammates.

“You’re going to the next training, right?”

“I dunno, man. . .”

“ _What?_ ” Bernard’s voice came out too loud by accident and it caught the teacher’s attention.

“Oscar and Bernard,” she pronounced their names as a warning “if you gentlemen want to talk, please do it after class.”

Oscar apologized to her.

When she turned to the board again, Bernard ripped a piece of paper from his notebook. A ball of paper landed on Oscar’s desk two minutes later.

He unfolded the message.

_I know you hold a huge grudge on Neymar for something he did on seventh grade or something (you never told me exactly what happened btw and im your friend!!!) but whatever it is I’m sure it’s not a reason to throw an opportunity away. I want to punch you._

Oscar wrote down a reply below Bernard’s note:

_Neymar is a jerk and I hate him. Period. You never told me you wanted to know what happened so I never bothered you. Anyway, It’s a long story for something so stupid. . . you can have lunch at my house after school if you want. I tell you the whole thing and we play football later, deal? Ps: no punching._

He tossed the paper ball back at Bernard, who smiled at the message and looked at Oscar.

“I’m always up for free food and football!”

 

 

Bernard had to drop by his house to tell his mother where he was going to. He only lived one street away from Oscar so the walk wasn’t long.

While his friend was on his way, Oscar took his time to take a quick shower and use the internet for a bit. He dragged his laptop with him to bed. He had just turned it on when he saw a Skype call notification. It was David. Oscar accepted it and a smiling David filled his screen.

“Perfect timing!”

Oscar fake gasped. “You’re alive!”

David’s smile instantly faded, followed by a sigh. “I’m so sorry, man, life has been busy around here. I know I should’ve called you more.”

“Nah, it’s ok, don’t need to worry about me.” Oscar wished he didn’t sound so hurt.

David studied him. “Is everything ok? You look concerned.”

“It’s nothing. I just--” The doorbell rang. Oscar sighed in relief. He was not sure why but he didn’t feel like talking to David at the moment. “Look, I have to go. I have a friend over today.”

“A friend? What friend? I thought I was your only friend. . .” David frowned suspiciously.

“You’re an idiot.” Oscar was smiling now. “I have a life too, you know.”

“What’s his or her name? Do I know this person?”

“Nope. He’s new to school.”

“A boy then.” David looked thoughtful. “What’s his name? Does he have cool hair like I do?”

“His name’s Bernard. And no, he looks like a _normal_ person.”

“Normal is boring.” David stuck out his tongue.

The doorbell rang again. “Bye, David.” Oscar closed his laptop and ran upstairs.

He opened the door. “Sorry I made you wait, I was talking to a friend. You took long, though.”

“Yea, sorry, my mom made me have lunch at my place.” Bernard came in, a microwave popcorn package in of his hands. They started to make their way to Oscar’s bedroom “Good news: you can start telling me that long story now.” He smiled hopefully.

Oscar looked at him. “I don’t know why I have his feeling you’ll laugh at me.”

“I won’t laugh, I promise!” said Bernard, already laughing. He sat down on Oscar’s carpet, legs crossed like a child. Oscar sat on his bed.

“Alright, then.” He sighed. “It was started with this party. . .”

         

         

         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cultural note: teachers and students call themselves by their first names here in brazil. only in college i've heard some people calling teachers by their last names, but even in those cases we don't use personal titles like "mr, mrs or ms".
> 
> \----
> 
> *throws confetti at anne* ✧･ﾟ:*╰(◕ヮ◕╰)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to thank anne again bc anne is the best beta, have i told you that? ∩(︶▽︶)∩

         

         

“…that I didn’t want to go ― just for the record: I’m not a huge fan of parties. It was David’s idea. He dragged me there saying it’d be good for me to talk to someone-that-wasn’t-him for a while.”

“Whose party was it, by the way?” asked Bernard.

“Dani Alves.’”

“Ohhh, wait a second…” Bernard stood up by sudden and ran downstairs. Oscar frowned in confusion. The house was silent, so Oscar could hear when the popcorn started popping in the microwave. Two minutes later, a smiling Bernard reentered the bedroom, the scent of butter filling the room. “Want some?” He sat on the carpet again.

Oscar thanked, filling his mouth with popcorn. “Where was I?”

“Iff waff Dani Alveff’ party.” Bernard’s mouth was full.

“Oh, yea… Uhm, well, as you may know _\--_ ”

“Is it true that he does drugs?”

“Not that I kn--”

“Did _you_ do drugs at this party?”

“NO!” Oscar’s eyes widened. “And would you please stop interrupting me?”

Bernard ran his thumb and index fingers pressed together on his lips, like he was closing an invisible zipper.

“As I was saying,” Oscar continued, chuckling for a second at Bernard’s gesture. “I really didn’t want to go. David was older than me and he was considerably _popular_. Actually, it’s a mystery to me why he ever started talking to me in the first place, I mean, we weren’t even from the same class!” Oscar trailed off for a moment. “But that’s not the story now.” He shook his head. “The thing is… I only knew David and he was my best friend. I trusted him, of course. So I let him take me to that stupid party thinking that, at least, he’d be there with me. But, as I told you, David was a popular guy. We weren’t there for longer than ten minutes and someone had already dragged him away from me. So I was left alone. And shit started happening…”

 

_The loud music made everything shake._

_Oscar was sitting in a small couch at the living room, his hands nervously clenching together, eyes anxiously scanning the crowd, looking for a familiar face. There were people everywhere, dancing, talking, drinking, laughing. Strangers. David was nowhere to be seen._

_“Want some?”_

_Oscar jumped on his seat when he heard the voice in his ear. He looked up and saw a girl smiling, offering him a plastic cup with some beverage in it. Oscar took it without further questioning. She was really pretty, and pretty people made Oscar incredibly nervous. And when Oscar was nervous, he acted impulsively._

_“Why are you there alone?” She was leaning on the couch, still too close to Oscar’s face._

_“I-uh… M-my friend is somewhere and I am here.” Oscar closed his eyes in embarrassment, fully aware his words were stupid nonsense. Fortunately, the girl didn’t seem to hear a single word he said._

_“Hey,” she said, leaning even closer, and Oscar smelt the alcohol in her breath. He sipped a bit of his drink, feeling the horrid liquid go down his throat burning, wondering why anyone would like to drink this willingly. The girl was wearing heavy make-up but beneath it all, her face was round and young. Oscar wondered how old she was. “are you up to making out?”_

_Oscar almost choked on his drink. “What?”_

_She laughed, amused. “Not with me, right now. I mean, we’ll play a game. There’ll probably be some making out involved. You in?”_

_Oscar could feel his cheeks burn, his throat burn, and the girl was still looking at him with reddish-brown eyes that also seemed to burn, and she was so pretty and Oscar was so nervous and-- “Sure!”_

_“Yayyy!” She took him by the hand and led him to the relatively dark backyard._

 

“Hold on a second!” Bernard left the bedroom in a rush, coming back within a minute, two cups of soda in both hands. He handed one to Oscar. “The popcorn made me thirsty.”

“Glad to know you’re comfortable enough to open my fridge and take whatever you want.” Oscar took the cup, laughing. “Just kidding, of course, you can make yourself comfortable. David was so used to being here that my mom would even leave extra food for him in the fridge.”

“I wish someday I get to know this David guy, he seems to be funny.” Bernard sat down on the floor again.

“He is. But he’s an idiot.” Oscar decided to sit on the floor too, leaning his back on the bed. Bernard did the same. “But you are also an idiot, so I guess the problem’s with me. I’m an idiot-magnet.”

Bernard punched his shoulder. “Shut up and tell the fucking story.”

“Alright” Oscar laughed for a moment and then tensed up, self-aware of what he was about to tell Bernard. “So… this girl led me to the backyard and there weren’t a lot of people there like in the rest of the house. They seemed to be a lot younger than most of the guests who were Dani’s friends. I was guessing those kids were about my age, actually…”

 

_There lived a problem. Oscar started recognizing some familiar faces among the youngest crowd. People from his class. People he usually tried the most to avoid because he knew they were trouble. Oscar wanted to go away, but the girl was still holding his hand and he didn’t know how to deal with it._

_“Bruna!” a blonde girl Oscar knew from school waved at her. “Where have you been? We’re about to start the--” She stopped, noticing their hands together. Bruna saw her looking and retrieved her hand, smiling awkwardly._

_“Where’s Neymar?” Asked Bruna._

_“He’s coming.” Said the other, still glancing at Oscar, but now with curiosity. “You’re Oscar, right?”_

_“U-hum.”_

_“You’re really shy, aren’t you?”_

_He nodded pathetically and, luckily (or not), something caught the girl’s attention, because Oscar had no idea what to say next._

_There was a small commotion as three guys came in the scene, all of them dancing and singing loudly. Oscar knew them. Everyone knew them; the youngest kids from the school team._

_Neymar, the shortest, was holding a dark bottle in the air like it was a trophy._

_“Everybody gather around!” He shouted, a huge grin on his face. “Let’s get this party started!”_

_Screams in celebration. Oscar wanted so bad to leave, but everyone was sitting down in a circle formation on the floor, and he’d be in evidence if he left. So Oscar stayed, hoping no one would notice him, hoping Neymar wouldn’t notice him._

_Someone was explaining the rules of the game. It was called ‘truth or dare or shot’ and the name itself was pretty self-explanatory. They’d spin the bottle and whoever the bottle pointed to, had to make a choice: “truth”, to answer to a probably perverted question; “dare”, to perform an equally perverted dare; and “shot” to, well, drink a shot of whatever was in that dark bottle. None of those options were exactly okay to Oscar._

_When the bottle spun for the first time, Oscar could feel his heart beating like samba drums. When the bottle stopped, it was pointing at a boy who was not that far away from him. Oscar exhaled, slowly, knowing there was always a chance he could be the next._

_“Truth or dare or shot?” Neymar asked the boy, that smile that seemed to never leave his face._

_“Shot!” The boy said promptly. Everyone cheered as he held the bottle and took a big sip of the beverage, pulling a funny face afterwards. More cheering. The bottle spun again. And again. And again. And all of the times it spun Oscar would panic a little until it pointed to someone else. When it finally pointed at him, however, Oscar panicked a lot._

_“Oscar!” Neymar was still smiling, open arms like he was about to hug someone. Oscar felt his cheeks reddening, his stomach clenching. Everyone was looking at him and most of them were laughing. Oscar wanted to disappear. “Truth or dare or shot?”_

_Oscar looked at the bottle, considering it really seriously. He had already drunk alcohol that night for his first time ever, he didn’t want to go any further and get real drunk. Not alone. Not like this._

_He sighed heavily. “Truth.”_

_Everyone “ooo-ed” in a mystery tone._

_Neymar was playing with the bottle in his hands, looking thoughtful. “Is it true that… you’ve never kissed anyone?”_

_All eyes on him. Cheeks burning. Oscar had never kissed anyone, but he couldn’t tell the truth; they’d mock him ‘till eternity. However, he couldn’t lie either; they’d know if he lied. Oscar was a terrible liar._

_“No.” He managed to say, his voice cackling. “I mean, no, this is not true.”_

_Everyone cheered and Oscar couldn’t tell if it they were buying his story. Neymar was still looking at him. “Who was it? Your first kiss?”_

_Oscar smiled timidly. “You can only make one question.”_

_People clapped and Oscar looked away, trying to control his paranoia. The worse had already passed, he tried to assure himself, at least now that he was chosen it would take a while for the bottle to point at him ag--_

_“Oscar again!” Neymar announced._ The fuck?

_More cheering and laughing. Oscar couldn’t believe this was happening. Neymar must have cheated when he was looking away, there was no other explanation. Oscar hated himself for not paying attention._

_“Truth or dare or shot?”_

_“Shot.”_

_Neymar looked surprised for a millisecond, but handed the bottle to Oscar who took a big sip of whatever liquid that was. It was the strongest thing Oscar has ever drunk and he felt dizzy for a moment, trying to recover from the burning sensation the beverage caused in his throat._

_The bottle was spun again._

_“Oscar, look!” Neymar pointed at something behind Oscar, who instantly turned to take a look. “Jeez, Oscar again! The bottle must really love you, dude!”_

_Everyone exploded into laughter and Oscar, redder than ever, returned his gaze at the bottle that, again, was pointing at him._ I can’t believe I was so dumb.

_“Truth or dare or shot?”_

_Oscar held Neymar’s glare. He was still nervous, still intimidated, but now he was fucking angry as well. Oscar wouldn’t take a shot of that thing again and he couldn’t risk being asked another personal question he’d have to reply with lies. “If I say ‘dare’, you promise you won’t request anything pervert?”_

_Neymar chuckled. “No, I promise I’ll be nice to you.”_

_Oscar wished Neymar would stop looking at him that way._

_“Alright, then.”_

_“You choose ‘dare’, then?” Neymar wanted to make sure._

_Oscar nodded and the crowd went “ooooh”._

_Neymar smirked like he was plotting something and then, finally:_

_“I dare you to kiss me.”_

 

“Whaaaaaat?” Bernard interrupted him for the first time in minutes.

Oscar was getting red. “Please don’t laugh at what comes next, that will be the embarrassing bit.”

“Dude, I won’t, I swear. This is like Globo TV’s soap opera, I’m very interested.” Bernard filled his mouth with popcorn, watching Oscar with anticipation.

“Alright…” Oscar looked away, blush deepening. “My reaction was just like yours, actually, my eyes widened and I said a loud--”

 

_“What?”_

_Oscar thought he heard wrong and was relieved to see that the crowd reaction wasn’t that different. Everyone had no idea what was going on and besides the loud music coming from inside the house, there was a strange silence in the air._

_Neymar stood up, his face very serious. He offered Oscar a hand and Oscar, nervous as hell, took it by impulse. “Are you serious?” Oscar asked, his hand was trembling on Neymar’s._

_Neymar said nothing, and with one soft tug he raised Oscar to his feet. They were in the center of the circle, and Oscar was fully aware everyone was looking mostly at him, while Neymar was still quiet, waiting. Oscar felt his heart rhythm going frenetic. The pressure plus nervousness was too much for him. He didn’t know exactly what was going through his mind when he inclined himself to kiss the shorter boy’s lips, a kiss that never happened._

_Neymar backed away in the last moment and smiled, but his smile was uncertain. “Just kidding!” he said, and everyone let out their breaths at once, their laughing filling the void where the silence was seconds ago. “I can’t believe he was actually going to kiss him!” Some were saying. “Faggot!” Others were shouting._

_Oscar felt cold by sudden, like he was naked, completely exposed in the center of that damned circle. He was taller than Neymar but he felt the littlest of them all._

_“I have to go.” He announced, regretting everything that came out of his mouth. He didn’t need to tell these assholes anything. So he ran away, hands desperately trying to contain the tears that kept forming on his eyes._

_“Oscar, hey!” A hand grabbed him by the arm._

_Oscar turned and saw a very concerned David staring at him._ Perfect timing _, Oscar thought to himself with sorrow. And then he noticed: David’s other hand holding onto Thiago Silva’s waist. Oscar blinked, trying to process everything. It was too much. “I have to go.” He said again._

_“What’s wrong? Do you want me take you home?” David asked._

_“I’m fine. You have no obligation to take me home, David, you’re not my mom.” Oscar released himself from David’s grip, feeling worse than ever. When he finally reached the street, he stopped himself, closing his eyes and breathing deeply the fresh air of the night. He didn’t notice someone was walking towards him._

_“Oscar!”_

_Oscar opened his eyes wide. Neymar was standing right in front of him, looking as embarrassed as he could be. “I don’t know what gave to me, seriously. I’m a bit drunk but this doesn’t justify that stupid prank. I’m sorry.”_

_Oscar blinked some tears away, that sickness in his stomach still bothering him. Somehow, Neymar’s presence intensified everything he was feeling._

_“Do you… really was going to kiss me?” Neymar squinted his eyes, like he was really unsure if it was adequate to ask this but did it anyway._

_Oscar snorted, but there wasn’t any joy in his laugh._

_“Fuck you, Neymar.”_

 

“And then I walked home alone. The end.”

Bernard was quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Oscar looked at him, vaguely worried, and caught Bernard watching him.

“You were right, that’s a stupid story.” He said at last. “But it’s not funny.”

Oscar looked at his own hands, not knowing what to say. They stayed silent for a moment, and then Bernard asked:

“Were you going to kiss him, Oscar?”

“I don’t know…” Oscar was being sincere. “I guess? I was confused and nervous, I don’t know what got to me.”

“But you considered it.” Bernard was being really careful with his words. Bernard usually only said the stupidest things.

Oscar took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“So… you like boys?”

Oscar clenched his fists, anxious. What if Bernard freaked? What if things got weird between them?

_No_. Bernard was a nice guy. _And he’s my friend_.

Oscar decided to tell the truth.

“I do like boys…” He said. “a-and girls. I like girls too. Girls and boys.”

Bernard let out a sonorous breath Oscar hadn’t notice he was holding.

“Dude… I’m so relieved.” Bernard was laughing to himself.

“What?” Oscar was confused.

“I like boys too, you know. But only boys, though. I was going to tell you eventually but I was afraid you were going to think I want to make out with you or something, which I don’t, by the way, you’re a loser.”

“Thanks a lot?” Now Oscar was laughing too. “I’m very relieved too, I guess.”

Bernard punched him lightly on the shoulder, a friendly punch. And just like that, Oscar knew things were back to normal again.

“Hey! Are you still up to playing football?”

Bernard smiled wider.

“Always!”

          

         

         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cultural note: idk if you found odd seventh graders doing such things but brazilian kids scare me these days. i have a younger sister and when she was in seventh grade she already went to parties where some dumb shit like the events of this fic happened is2g  
> \--  
> Before hating on neymar forever, please have in mind they were really young and stupid and neymar had his equally stupid reasons for doing what he has done, which of course, doesn't justify what he did at all. but neymar's a good guy, i promise sdknskdj i just needed something dumb like this to happen bc oscar's hate for him is an important part of this plot ;;-;; things will work out between these two eventually, i promise <3  
> Also, thanks again for your comments, you guys are the sweetest and your comments keep me going :'D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy i can finally post this chapter i was getting really anxious about making you guys wait for so long but ,as i told you before, it was kinda of out of my hands (college, work, writer's block. . .). But this chapter came out really long and i hope it compensates the long wait heheh Also!!! I just bought a new computer so at least i don't have to worry about having to share it with my sister wohoooo Now ya'll just have to pray for my writer's block 3
> 
> (and once again, thank to anne for putting up with me :')

 

 

 

The thing is, what Bernard Duarte lacked in height, he compensated for in persistence.

It was tuesday afternoon, and Oscar was still not truly sure how but Bernard had managed to talk him into changing his clothes to a proper training outfit. _Maybe short people had special powers_ , Oscar wondered. Or maybe Bernard’s lost ability to shut up had something to do with it.

Yep, definitely the latter theory.

It had been one week since their confession to each other, one week of a ten times more talkative Bernard. Oscar was still trying to adjust to his new friend.

On one hand, he was really happy for him. Somehow, Bernard was even more confident now _and_ he would talk to him about boys, which Oscar couldn’t believe how much of a relief it was. On the other hand, however… Oscar needed some time by himself. It was an introvert thing, nothing personal. And Bernard wouldn’t stop showing up at his house at the most random of times, calling him at late midnight to chat about trivial stuff like _football_. It was starting to tire Oscar to death and, in those calls, specifically, he’d simply stop listening at some point, murmuring _yesses_ and _mm-hmms_ just so Bernard knew he was still awake.

In fact, Oscar suspected he had got one of those calls the night before, though he is not quite sure what they had talked about during the whole conversation. And it made him speculate.

“…my mom forgot to wash my galo uniform and it’s fucking stinking. Plus, that’s an old uniform anyway; I have it since I was twelve. Can you believe my clothes from when I was twelve still fit me? That’s so fucked up. And my mom uses that as an excuse to never buy me new clothes.” Bernard’s voice from last night echoed through Oscar’s mind in a vague memory. Oscar was so tired. He was not really listening. “Oscar, are you even listening?”

“Yea, yea.” Oscar sounded groggy. He was lying in his bed, his eyes almost closing.

“Alright, so-- where was I? Oh, yes, the uniform. My cousin’s going to lent me his. It’ll probably look a bit big on me since Lucas’ slightly taller than me, but it’ll serve me until we get the official school team uniform. When do you think they’ll give us our uniforms? Do they even give uniforms to new players that soon? I’m sure mine will take longer to make though, ‘cause they’ll have to make it custom sized for my height and…”

Oscar dozed off. Maybe for a second or five minutes ― he even dreamt a little. When he woke up, Bernard was still talking.

“…Oscar? What do you say?”

“Yea, yea.” Said Oscar. _What was the question?_

“Really? Wow, that… was easier than I expected!” Bernard laughed. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Woohoo!”

Oscar couldn’t remember if they said goodbye to each other.

He was on his doorway now, thoughtful, finishing tying his cleats. Now that he was fully awake, Oscar was almost certain he had accidentally promised Bernard they’d go to the training that afternoon. _The training… Shit_. Suddenly, the thought of what he was doing paralyzed him. Why did he even make it this far, putting his old uniform and everything? Had he forgotten Neymar would be there?

 _Shit_.

“Bernard, why don’t you go alone?” Oscar stood up. “I’m not feeling very well.”

In Oscar’s defense, it wasn’t exactly a lie. He could feel the anxiety taking over him already and he _was_ truly tired. Exam week was coming and he had been studying like his life depended on it. Which it kind of actually did, if he was really going to take the ENEM* that year as a mock test. He intended to.

Bernard didn’t seem to care much about any of this stuff. His biggest life goal was to be a professional football player. As long as he managed not to fail high school, Bernard was perfectly fine with ‘ok’ grades. And Oscar understood him, had faith in him. The kid _was_ good at football, after all. He had the potential to go far in this career.

Oscar wished he himself had faith in Oscar too.

Already reaching the front yard gate at the moment, Bernard stopped promptly. “I knew it!” he let out the loudest of the sighs, without looking at Oscar. He was also fully dressed for the training, his cousin’s uniform a bit too large for him, just as he predicted. “I knew you were going to chicken out at the last minute.”

“I’m not chickening out, I just don’t feel very well.”

“I see.” Bernard opened the gate. “You’re never “well” when I call you to hang out either.”

“It’s not like that.”

Bernard turned at him, his eyes squinted at the harsh afternoon sunlight.

“Look dude, I know football isn’t as important to you as it is to me, but I thought it could be fun, you know? You and me, showing those dickheads how great we are?” He exhaled. “But I’m not going to force you into anything, of course. I’m grateful for what you did, you know that. They wouldn’t even let me go today if you hadn’t make that bargain with Neymar so… yea.”

Bernard was leaving. Oscar closed his eyes shut, breathing heavily, trying not to feel horrible but already feeling horrible. This was really important for Bernard. His _best friend_ Bernard. Maybe if he went just this time…

He sighed. “WAIT!” Oscar went inside to get his backpack, shouted to his sister he was leaving. And then ran after his friend.

“I thought you were not feeling very well…” Bernard said when Oscar caught up with his steps.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

Bernard hesitated for a second. “You weren’t really listening when we talked yesterday night, right?”

Oscar looked at Bernard and a thought hit him by sudden. _He knew_. _The little shit knew_. “You asked me about the training because you knew I was agreeing with everything.”

Bernard only laughed in response, the confirmation implied in his voice.

“ _Porra_ , Bernard! Sometimes you remind me of David, you know. I have this feeling you guys would be bff’s or something ‘cause you’re both fucking idiots.”

“Or something.” Bernard agreed.

Oscar was laughing too.

 

• • •

 

“Oscar!” Felipão walked towards him, cheerfully waving a hand, and Oscar was taken aback for a second. Seeing Felipão in a good mood was as rare as spotting a unicorn in the woods. “I’m glad you came, kiddo, and--” He finally noticed Bernard standing there, smiling like a child on Christmas. “Bernard?”

“Sup, _professor_!” said Bernard.

Felipão’s eyes were interrogation marks, but he said nothing about the intruder. He pointed them at the direction of the field, a silent order implied. Oscar and Bernard understood and walked up to where the team was warming up.

Oscar carefully chose the farthest place away from Neymar to stand, but not too far enough from other players to not look like he was actually avoiding someone.

Bernard stood somewhat closer to the rest. William showed them some quick warm-up exercises and soon Oscar no longer needed help. The exercises were pretty simple, after all. Tiring, but simple. After three or four minutes, Oscar found himself completely focused on his movements. There was something peaceful in being concentrated in his breathing, the air coming in and out of his lungs, his muscles slowly relaxing. When the whistle was finally blown, Oscar felt slightly weird, like he had just woken up from a dream. Warm-up time was over. He raised his head, fixing his posture.

Neymar was standing right in front of him.

“William said you wouldn’t come, but I knew you would.”

Oscar blinked. The sun was going down slowly, and it was that time of the day where its light made everything yellow and orange. It was reflecting on Neymar’s eyes right now, his green irises seeming to be on fire.

Neymar smiled “We’re gonna play now. C’mon!” He headed towards the center of the field, where the others were already gathering.

Oscar followed him, his stomach acting weird again.

He wondered if he’d ever stop feeling weird when Neymar was around.

 

 

They were standing in circle formation, Felipão in the center, explaining the rules.

Oscar spotted Bernard in the other side of the circle, his face frowned in concentration to what the coach was saying. He himself tried to pay attention too, but--

“Do you know anything about the newbie? That Coutinho guy?”

Neymar’s voice came out as a low whisper somewhere near Oscar’s shoulder. Until now, he hadn’t realize how close Neymar was to him, how close they all were in that circle.

 _Circle…_ Oh no.

Without realizing, Oscar tensed up.

 “I don’t know.” his voice was low, vaguely impatient sounding. “I’m a newbie too, remember?”

“Yes, but I know you. Coutinho’s new to this school.”

Oscar couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic snort. “You don’t know me.”

 “‘Course I know you.” Neymar clicked his tongue, like it was an absurd to contradict him. “We study together since we used diapers.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. I have the same neighbor for years and I don’t know his name.”

“That’s because you’re antisocial.”

“I’m not antisocial.”

“Yes, you are. You only hang out with Mr. Gnome there and--” Neymar stopped, causing Oscar to turn at him immediately, confused by Neymar’s sudden lack of words. Only then he realized the heavy silence around them.

He looked up and met Felipão’s annoyed glare. Everyone was looking at them too.

“Has the couple of old ladies finished their gossip session?”

The whole team seemed to be holding a laugh under their breaths — even Neymar —, but Oscar found no humor in the situation.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, his face burning. “It won’t happen again.” He felt Neymar elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

Felipão eyed the two a little longer. “Next time I catch someone talking while _I_ am talking, there’ll be no warning, just straightaway punishment. Understood?” The question was addressed to everyone, so they all nodded. “Good.”

The coach proceeded with his instructions and Oscar forced himself to paid attention this time.

 

 

 

They ended up not playing actual football that afternoon, after all. The rest of the training consisted in more warm-up exercises and drills but there was an explanation for that.

The team had lost too many players that year, all of them seniors who graduated high school. Oscar remembered some of them: his friend David, of course, his friend’s friend (boyfriend?) Thiago, and Marcelo and Dani… All of them amazing footballers, which meant the team’s loss was pretty significant.

Apparently, there was an open invitation going around during those last weeks, which unsurprisingly, Oscar hasn’t heard about. Everyone between the age of 12 and 18 could participate these two first trainings and, based on their performance, Felipão would choose who would make it to the team or not. Knowing this made Oscar feel a whole new level of stupid. There was no need to bargain with Neymar about Bernard’s entrance in the team. If Bernard wanted to come he had to simply show up like everyone else.

“What were you and Neymar talking about?” Speaking of Bernard…

Oscar looked at him. They were running side by side now, each one with a ball on their feet, diverting obstacles on the field. Only the new guys were doing this, while the old members of the team were watching somewhere near the coach, some laughing, others mocking. Oscar was trying not to look at their direction. “Nothing.” He answered Bernard at last, breathing heavily from the running. “He asked me if I knew Coutinho and I said I didn’t.”

“I saw you smiling.” Bernard was panting too, though his body didn’t show it.

“It wasn’t a smile. It was a _sarcastic snort._ ” Oscar stopped talking when the obstacles made them go opposite directions.

When Felipão blew the whistle announcing that exercise was over, Bernard approached him again. “I don’t know if you noticed, but he was smiling too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

And Oscar is not quite sure why he looked at Neymar that moment. It wasn’t exactly hard to spot him and his stupid hair, that week styled like he was an anime character. Neymar was laughing with a friend when he met Oscar’s eyes and gave him a thumbs up, that cocky grin on his face.

Oscar didn’t notice he had raised his thumb in response until Bernard eyed him like he knew CIA’S biggest top secret.

“Everyone gather around!” Felipão shouted.

It took a little longer until all of the boys came near. Some of them were panting so hard Felipão had to tell them to sit for a moment and drink some water. Everyone knew those definitely were not going to make it. The oldest players were openly laughing at them.

Instantly, Oscar became self-aware of how he looked like to the others.  He was physically exhausted, but even though his breathing was still heavy, it was under control; his muscles were not hurting that much.

He checked up on Bernard. He also seemed to be ok. _Good_. The others had no reason to laugh at them. _Not that I care_.

Felipão didn’t have much to say. He congratulated everyone for their hard work, but there was no inspirational talking. The coach made it very clear that, whoever had the slightest doubt if they could or not keep up with the heavy trainings, shouldn’t even come next thursday. “There’s no space for doubt. As you know, the game against Mogi das Cruzes’ team is at the end of this semester.” he had said. Oscar nodded along, completely clueless about said game. He knew Mogi das Cruzes was an expensive private school nearby, but he didn’t even know they had a football team. “Which means we don’t have much time to train, and maybe we’ll have to practice during more days of the week if we find necessary to do so _and_ if the school’s director allows us to, of course. I know some of you are inexperienced and need a lot of training until you feel comfortable enough to train without tiring yourselves to death.” In that moment he side-eyed a kid who wouldn’t stop exhaling loudly, like he was suffocating. Felipão seemed slightly worried for a second, but soon recomposed himself with a smile. “But lastly, I have good news!”

 _Ahhh!_ , Oscar thought to himself. Whatever this good news was, it must had been the reason behind the teacher’s good humor that day. So he listened carefully.

“As you know, if we win this game we go to the finals of the city’s championship.” Felipão said. Oscar tried to look as if he actually _knew_ any of this stuff. “We _must_ go to the finals. I have been told there will be investors there. We could find us some sponsors.”

A silent excitement filled the air. Nobody dared to speak while their coach was talking.

Oscar looked at Bernard. Then at Neymar. Everybody was looking at Felipão.

So Oscar did the same.

“Sponsors would be extremely welcome right now because — and I believe you don’t know about _that_ — our already shitty budget hasn’t been completely cut out by the school’s headmasters.” There was a collective murmur as older players cussed under their breaths. Felipão nodded along, like he agreed with them but couldn’t voice his opinion out loud. “If we don’t find sponsors, there’s no way we can buy new training equipment or even new uniforms, like I told you we would in the beginning of the semester.”

More murmur.

“I’d say I’m sorry but it’s out of my hands, really.” Felipão completed. “All we can do is win. Win for the team, if you wish, and win for _yourselves_ if you want to follow a football career. Remember that: after the money, the only thing investors love the most are gifted high school young players. They look at you and all they see is a gold mine. They’re looking for the gold. And I need the best of all of you. Can you give me that?”

A small chorus of “ _yea!_ ’s” rose in response. Once again, Oscar looked at Bernard and Neymar. They had the exact same expression on their faces. Excitement, anxiousness… _Hope_. But soon Neymar diverged, smiling wide and laughing excited with his friends, like he could tell the future and the game was already won. Bernard caught him looking and asked:

“So… You coming next training or?”

Oscar shrugged. “Maybe.”

Felipão finally dismissed the team, and Bernard asked Oscar no more questions.

The skies were completely dark when they walked home together. Weirdly, Bernard had been quiet during the whole route, and Oscar would be concerned if his friend wasn’t smiling. So Oscar allowed himself to immerse in his own thoughts too.

He thought of the training, what it meant to him, what it meant to Bernard. He thought about playing football and winning. What would it mean to him? How would it be to feel like a winner for once in his life? Pretty good, he betted. What if he got himself an investor like David and Thiago did? He brushed this thought off. He’d never really thought of football as a career. But again, he was still not quite sure what he wanted to be in life.

“See you tomorrow!” Bernard’s house was nearby, so they waved each other goodbye.

"See you!"

Oscar had to walk a little more, and soon enough was lost in his mind again.

He’s not quite sure when his thoughts started to be about Neymar, but here he was.

He thought about seventh grade, about this whole time they’ve studied together not exchanging a single meaningful conversation. He thought of that day’s training, and how Neymar was being nice to him. Yes, _nice_. The word sounded out of place when in the same sentence as Neymar’s name. But he couldn’t deny it. He was being nice _back,_ after all. And it was just hitting him now. _I was being nice back_. What happened to all his hate? Was he starting to forgive him or something?

Oscar opened his front yard gate, shaking his head. What he needed to do was to stop thinking about that jerk. _Yes, that’s what I’m gonna do_. He was not that worth of thinking about, was he?

But the brain is a weird thing. The more we try to not to think of something or someone, the more we _will_ think about it.

Oscar entered his house. Took a shower. Had dinner with his parents. Helped his sister Gabriella with her homework. Finally, went to bed. During this whole time, he couldn’t stop thinking about Neymar.

And when Oscar Emboaba closed his eyes, he dreamt about greenish eyes that seemed to be on fire.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cultural note:
> 
> *ENEM: Exame Nacional do Ensino Médio (English: High School National Exam) is a non-mandatory, standardized Brazilian national exam, which evaluates high school students. The exam has been used both as an admission test for enrollment in public universities, as well as for certification for a high school degree. In Brazil, public universities are highly regarded for their prestige, and those who want to get admitted have to study their asses off to do well on ENEM ‘cause shit is very competitive.
> 
> *Porra: “fuck” in Portuguese, used as an interjection.
> 
> _________________
> 
> I need comments on this yo, i'm kind of proud of this chapter :'))))

**Author's Note:**

> Important note about the storyline: I'm writing this fic with a brazilian school scenario in mind, so if you're not brazilian some things may sound weird to you. Like the physical education classes, for example (gosh! i hated those); most of the times the teacher will separate boys from girls when they're playing an actual sport like football, and those who haven't been picked by any team or simply doesn't feel like playing need to write some kind of dumb report so the teacher can evaluate them. (At least that's how things worked in my old school. I was never picked by any team because I was too short and skinny #BernardFeelings).
> 
> \--
> 
> Ever since i started shipping Neyscar i knew these two needed a high school au because they're so young and dumb and asnkadjnaskj I have a lot of feels for these two ok, i need help. And by help i mean fics, of course. Please write me neyscar.  
> And if you feel like sharing headcanons, or just talking really, you kno where to find me: littlebernards.tumblr.com B)


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